Love is Chaos Beautiful
by Aviarianna O Lorien
Summary: His whole expression was paralyzing. But his eyes were the worst, because of the unmistakable glint within them. That glint that spoke of love like an obsession. Love like a madness. Love like chaos, beautiful. One Shot


Love is Chaos; Beautiful

A story based upon the amazing work of art that can be found on Deviant-art under the artist name of Tavington, a picture that holds the same title as this piece of fiction.

Disclaimer: The Dark Knight and its characters, plus all batman related stuff period is NOT mine.

PAY ATTENTION TO THE LINE BREAKS; THEY ACTUALLY ARE PART OF THE STORY!

*************Love is…*****************

He stared. With his makeup smeared half to hell, his backdrop a dirty bathroom wall with bloody prints and letters on it, he stared. Out of those fathomless dark brown eyes, made darker by the thick rings of black around them his stare was penetrating. That slight curve to his mouth, that endless, scarred on smile done up in a bright, bloody red that smirked out so subtly across the bathroom. His whole expression was paralyzing. But his eyes were the worst, because of the unmistakable glint within them.

That glint that spoke of love like an obsession.

Love like a madness.

Love like chaos, beautiful.

*******************Beauty is…********************************  
And he _was_ beautiful.

He was simply gorgeous down to the very last pearlescent, puckered scar and of these he had many.

And he was terrifying.

It was not the scars that made him scary though, it was the keen, dangerous, intelligence in eyes so dark they were almost black.

And he was completely confounding.

Here was a man, though many were keen to call him a demon and a monster, a mad dog running rabid through the town. He was the Joker, but he was also a man, he felt, he bled, he thought, and in the most chaotic of ways; he loved.

He was loved. People obsessed over him, both good and bad, they adored him and hated him and feared the very thought of his name. But that wasn't his name, it was his label. It was a title bestowed upon him as an agent of that one fair force in the universe, of chaos.

But she knew his real name.

*********************Madness is…*****************************  
She knew him.

This girl with the long brown hair streaked bright red. Her pale skin had shimmered slightly in the sunlight, tiny little scars marring the landscape of her arms, her knees, and her right cheek. She had brown eyes just like his…

Innocent eyes.

Deceptive golden-brown masks.

Those eyes were trickery, they screamed out innocence. But he knew what she hid under that mask, so dark, so destructive, and so utterly beautiful.

He'd named her…Baby-doll.

His baby-doll.

She looked like a doll.

She portrayed a child…it drew people to her; it made her rampages all the more sweet. Such an innocent, sweet looking young woman making fountains out of jugular veins and broken champagne flutes? The whole idea of it was simply breathtaking!

The sparkle in those pretty, wide eyes of hers.

The joy in the making of chaos she bathed in it. How enthralling, how fascinating, how beautiful it all was. He absolutely loved watching her.

He absolutely loved her.

***************** Chaos is…*******************************  
She had loved him too.

The Baby-doll was the favorite and everyone in the group knew she was his. She was just as dangerous as the man in the purple suit, just as unstable. And far too curious for her own good.

Always curious, she was as Alice falling down the rabbit hole.

He was the rabbit, leading her towards that mad world. He built his wonderland of blood and fire, smoke and scars. Fire in his burning brown eyes, smoke made of liner, and charcoal and ash around his eyes. And blood on the scars that would smile forever, that would live on forever.

He did not simply lead her to his world, he had watched with a satisfied smirk even the devil would be weary of as she jumped in after him.

And now he watched the labored breath move her chest up and down in erratic rhythms. Was that his knife sticking out of her body? Were those bruises on her arms shaped like his hands? Wouldn't he be the one sporting a black eye or two and a few new scars in the morning? He watched her sit up, straining, blood blossoming like a blooming flower around the blade already in her.

She smiled.

He tilted his head.

Blood stained her teeth.

He stared.

Her next breath shook, rattled in her chest. She let it out as a giggle, light, soft and innocent but with a dark undertone. Just like her wide brown eyes that were closing slowly. Half lidded things, she stared back at him as blood trickled out of the side of her mouth.

She died.

He could not tear his eyes away.

****************Love is Chaos; beautiful. ******

Fin. There is nothing more to say but I would suggest you go and find that picture that this was inspired by.

~Aviarianna O' Lorien


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